A/N

Hey guys, I know I haven't written in literally like a year and a half. Nor have I finished my previous set of stories. I have some half written garbage for future chapters for Edge of the Glowing Stars, but I'm just so unhappy with the writing, I can't bring myself to upload it, and it's part of the reason I haven't been writing.

Quite simply, I haven't liked reading my own writing, and if even I can't enjoy it, you gotta assume no one else really would. I will try my best to maybe work on that, get that story updated if you guys want. In the meantime, I have started a new fic, based loosely on the Outlander series by Diana Gabaldon. I highly recommend the books, as they are extremely well written, believable, and super steamy :] The TV show is also extraordinarily delightful, and it is cast perfectly :D

If you're new to my writings, welcome! I usually write Doctor Who fic, but I'm trying my hand at others. If you're an Outlander fan, I hope you don't mind OC's, because this story is full of them. Besides, if you read the entire series, what more could you want to dream up for our beloved characters? Diana does a fabulous job of delving deep into their lives, leaving little to imagination (much to my delight).

If you're a reader of The Glowing Stars series, welcome back my lovely! :D I'm amazed you're still tagging along, and I thank you for it! You're the best 3 Let me know if you really want more Edge of the Glowing Stars and I will deliver. Also yes. This OC is named Evelyn too. Think of it as an Alternate/Parallel Universe Evy! ;] We all know she'd get into shenanigans, Doctor or not.

I couldn't get this premise out of my head, but I have no idea if I will finish it. I was in a writing mood for the first time in forever.

Let me know if you like it, and I'll try to bring you more.

Lots of love,

-A.

December 26th, 2010

The necklace at the base of my throat felt cold and heavy against my heated skin, with an energy all its own, as if made of some kind of earthen stone. In reality, it was a simple silver pendant in the shape of a compass, with the words " There are no shortcuts to anywhere worth going" inscribed on the back in elegant script.

It was probably fifteen bucks at Kohl's, and this was the first time in years that I had worn it, but I was acutely aware of it in a way I never had been before. I woke up this morning thinking about it, in fact, quite suddenly resurrected from forgotten memory.

It was quite suddenly one of my most precious and valuable possessions.

It had been a gift from my friend Ashley. She had given it to me a few years ago, for our friend's Christmas party that we had all thrown every year since the 7th grade. It was an apt gift, given that she and I were the adventurous ones of the group. We'd been exploring abandoned houses, disobeying 'No Trespassing' signs, and tip-toeing through graveyards for years, just the two of us. The compass represented our kindred sense of adventure, and I imagined her now, seeing it while out shopping with her mom, and thinking of me, as I was thinking of her now.

That had been the year we'd all had the idea to give each other Christmas makeovers. It turned into the five of us scribbling nonsense with eyeliner onto each others' faces and using lipstick to tattoo our skin with. Ashley had given herself lipstick tattoos of stars over both of her eyes and stood on the coffee table in Laura's basement with orange soda in one hand, and an unplugged karaoke mic in the other, belting some punk song none of us knew. Of course, we clapped and hooted and hollered at her anyway.

Ashley died eleven days ago.

I remember vividly, as I now know I always will for the rest of my life, getting the call. I was packing up my things, getting ready to go on Christmas break. A call from Maddie had interrupted the music I had been singing along to, and I had tucked it under my chin so as to continue packing, picked it up and answered in the strangest voice I could muster. It was our ritual.

"Hallo." I had rasped in a nasally accent, grinning a bit. I immediately sobered, hearing only sniffles and whimpering from the other end. I dropped the blouse I had been folding, and held the phone to my ear.

Maddie didn't cry easily, nor for trivial reasons.

"Maddie? What's wrong? What happened?"

I only remember sitting on the cold floor of my dorm for the next hour, shaking, tears falling from my eyes without end.

I had just texted her two days before it happened.

Two days. She was alive, asking me "When the fuck can I see your beautiful face?! I need an adventure!"

And just like that she was gone.

I didn't believe it for days, not truly, not deep in my soul. I couldn't accept it. It wasn't until now, driving to the second memorial service, the special one for her close friends and family, that I think I finally understood.

"You alright, Evy?"

I glanced over at the passenger seat, where knowing green eyes met mine, slightly slanted like a cat's. A slight smile automatically plastered itself to my lips. An instinctual reaction.

Maddie, my dearest friend in the entire world, knew me well. Well enough to know I wouldn't say no. She also knew I would crack open when I needed to, and only when I needed to. Asking was just her way of saying she understood, that we were in this together, as we always were.

I took a quick survey of her hairdo, which I had done myself. A simple bun made elegant by curling her long golden-brown hair into loose ringlets. Some of it had come loose, framing her pale, lightly freckled face. She was clutching the gift for Ashley's mom we'd gotten, an iridescent butterfly, full of color, to put in her garden. The card attached read simply:

The colors reminded us of Ash.

We love you

-Evelyn Crenshaw and Madison O' Brian.

We hadn't known what else to put.

"Yeah, I'm good. It's just… What do we say? How can we ever-"

I stopped, replacing the end of the sentiment with a long drawn out breath.

How can we ever express these emotions? How can we ever adequately comfort them in a time like this?

There would be a line to greet Ashley's mom and dad, and with this more intimate setting, we would have more time to speak to them than the first memorial service.

"I hope they have alcohol." Maddie said, without the hint of a smile in her voice.

I nodded grimly.

"Me too."

I flopped down on the couch, the bottle of wine we had nabbed from Kroger clutched in my hand. It was, as of right now, unopened.

Maddie flopped down next to me, the plate of microwaved pizza rolls steaming in her hands.

We had changed out of our black dresses, now in our pajamas, ready to lose ourselves in a movie. Instead, we sat in silence for several moments.

"I'm emotionally exhausted." She muttered before carefully picking the perfectly heated pizza roll from the plate and popping it into her mouth.

"I'm glad we went. Ashley would've liked it." I said, twisting off the top of the bottle and taking a sip without even giving it time to breathe.

It's a generally unspoken rule, that if it's twist off, it's not fancy enough to require breathing.

The cheap wine burned its way down my throat, landing pleasantly in my stomach, warm and comforting.

"Yeah."

We switched, and I ate a few pizza rolls. She took a few large swigs.

Maddie's mom swept quietly into the room with an arm full of blankets. I was surprised she was awake. It was well past 1 a.m.

She laid one on each of us, her eyes watering.

"I'm so sorry, girls." She said, her voice shaking, and she gave each of us a kiss on the head before leaving, a hand over her mouth.

She had been crying sporadically like that all week.

I wonder how different the situation looks from a mother's perspective.

"I can't believe this is happening," Maddie muttered, "She was happy. Everything was going great for her. Made it into D.A.P… Had a nice boyfriend. She was making art like she had always wanted."

I could feel my expression darken. I remembered the haunted look, deep in her boyfriend Sam's reddened eyes. He was the one who found her.

"That we know of. You know she struggled for years, since the seventh grade."

"I know, but… She could've told one of us. You, me, Hope, Laura, Molly, her new college friends, Sam… She had all the support in the world. She was clean, had been for nearly a year. I just… I don't understand."

"We probably never will either." I said, reaching for the bottle.

"Yeah."

Ash didn't leave a note. She didn't text anyone or call anyone to reach out that night. She didn't do anything, except ask each of her high school friends, the five of us, to spend time together over Christmas break.

"She tried to wait, to say bye, I think." I said softly, and Maddie nodded, shoving a few pizza rolls down her throat to keep it from tightening.

The past week had been exactly as Maddie had said. Emotionally exhausting. Three services we had gone to, each special in its own way, and each requiring us to give a part of ourselves away.

I do think I understood a bit better why she might have done what she did, more than any of the others. She and I, we had a special connection. We had understood each other's disappointment in the world, and the knowledge that the world could not live up to our grandiose expectations of it. We had each, in our youth, needed the world to be dangerous and full of peril, full of adventure and the chances to prove ourselves worthy of them.

And when it wasn't… Well, a part of your soul withers away, if you let it.

I understood the deep disillusionment that came with realizing the world was not as strange nor incredible as we needed it to be. I also understood the impossibility of unhooking the claws of depression from your skin and bone once it had gotten ahold of you. Albeit, I only needed to deal with it in the winter, the only fortunate side-effect of Seasonal Affected Disorder.

She had to deal with it every day, of every week, of every year, for her entire life. Her depression did not give her the reprieve of summer and spring.

I can see how it might look hopeless… If you were the happiest you can imagine being, you have everything you ever thought you wanted, and you were still fucking miserable… I can see how she might not have seen another way.

I could sense the anger from Maddie, a sort of betrayal that Ashley would leave us so soon, and so purposefully. But I could feel no anger for her, nor did I feel betrayed.

I knew she only did what she felt she had to do, and I was in no place to judge her, as no one was. No one could know what she was going through, what it meant to be her.

Perhaps anyone might do the same if we were in her shoes.

I pulled the blanket tight around my shoulders and neck, feeling chilled suddenly.

Perhaps I would.

January 4th, 2011

My gaze lingered on the blue-tinged mountain line spreading before my eyes, the road seeming to be engulfed by them the further down you looked. It wouldn't be more than a half hour now.

God, I needed this so badly.

I turned the volume of the music up, promptly sweeping my frazzled mind free of thought.

My backpack, whom I'd affectionately named The Hulk, on account of his size and bright green hue, was sitting shotgun, fat and full of things I'd need for my short trip. I'd packed it almost expertly, if I do say so myself, to include my small tent, sleeping bag, food, iodine tablets, lanterns, books, flashlights, portable heater, and clothes.

Everything a girl could need.

I briefly felt bad for not inviting Maddie, but I knew she would understand. I do this every so often, and she knows it's just something I need. Some people exercise to de-stress. Some eat, some pick fights, some go clubbing, some lock themselves away in their rooms until they feel they can stomach the sight of another human face.

Not saying I've not done most, if not all, of those at some point or another to find relief, but more often than not, I'm not one to find comfort in a slice of cake or between the heart-throbbing beats of a DJ's song.

I find peace in the whispering of wind through trees, in the sunlight's brilliant dance of color across the sky as it rises and sets, the chattering of the animals who make the forest their home.

But most of all, in the thrill of being a part of the rhythm of it all. Something deeply buried and primal, a need to be a part of the cycle of life, to see it happening before my eyes, I think. The desire to be a part of the ever-unfolding adventure, rather than its master, as humanity seems to inherently strive for above all else.

Ashley understood that.

A bit later, with trees looming over the winding road in a timeless arch of fiery color, leading me up the rocky terrain typical of the Blue Ridge Mountains, the sunlight filtered down through the leaves. By the look of it, I knew that I'd need to set up camp quickly if I wanted to get a hike in before it got too dark. My heart fluttered its wings against the cage of my ribs at the thought of exploring, of not knowing what's around the corner, stretching my legs a bit.

After the past few weeks, mired in sadness and tears, I was ready for this. I was ready to begin moving forward. Or upward, in my case.

I was hoping to reach the peak of Mount Pisgah, one I'd never hiked before.

I remembered typing in the directions into my phone to get here and seeing a review someone had left of the hiking in the area. They'd said it was a magical place. Enduring, and lovely. They'd mentioned that the Cherokee called it…

Elseetoss, or something… Elsateese? Elsotass?

Whatever it was, I wonder what it meant to them. I know what it will mean to me…

My eyes darted to the wallet hanging conspicuously out of the glovebox. An old school ID that Ash had left at my house, so many years ago in middle school, was tucked in the front pocket with my license. Her blonde hair was cropped short, and her smile was full of mischief. I had promised her mom to bring her with me wherever I went, on every adventure I went on from this day to my last.

I don't think she knew how literally I meant it.

I reached up towards the setting sun, and stretched my back, having been hunched over nailing the metal stakes into the ground. I had nestled my tent beneath two trees, beginning to blaze with fall colors.

I'd better get going soon if I want to get back before it's entirely dark… I suppose I can do the rest by lantern-light tonight.

I bit my lip against a grin and snatched the Hulk up off the grass, haphazardly tossing out all of my campsite items into my tent. I left little more than the water bottle and iodine tablets, extra clothes, and my knife in the bag, leaving him much more deflated than when I'd started. I laced up my hiking boots in a rush and set out on the peak trail for Mount Pisgah.

My heartbeat seemed to synchronize with my feet as they carried me, just as the wind seemed to fill my lungs of its own accord. I could sense the tension leaving me with every breath. Everything about the forest seemed joyful and as it should be in the red-orange light of the sun reflecting off the leaves. But, in the flashes of sunlight between the leaves, I saw blue eyes, lightened with laughter, always making me smile with her offbeat spirit.

Ashley would love this…

My feet went on autopilot, thinking of the last time I'd spoken to her, months ago, before hauling off to North Carolina State.

We were sitting on the train car that was always parked behind the gas station on 42. We'd just gotten back from exploring a supposedly haunted road. Apparently a trucker had died, going too fast on the windy road, and had haunted it ever since.

If he did, he didn't care to make an appearance for us.

She'd taken a drag of her cigarette and crossed her arms, saying "One day, we'll find something real, and you know what, Evy?"

"What?"

"We're not going to know what the hell to do with it." She'd said, laughing.

My body lurched forward as my foot stayed behind, caught on a root, and I scrambled to catch my balance, yanking my foot up and forward. Sucking in a startled breath, I glanced around, noticing that the path I was on was not well worn, nor was it going up in an incline as it had before.

I hesitated, knowing the risk of going off the path in an unfamiliar place like this. It was getting darker, colder, and my chances of getting lost were getting higher and higher by the second. I glanced back, seeing that I'd only been on this path for several feet or so. It would be the easiest thing to just get back on track.

But why shouldn't I have just a little bit of adventure? I've done crazier things. I've hung off the sides of cliffs, I've trekked across icy mountain ledges! I think I can handle blazing a trail in the dark.

Besides, Ash would be disappointed in me if I didn't…

I ducked under branches and dodged spider webs for what seemed like forever, the path getting less and less clear as I went, until I was simply crashing my way through underbrush. My bare legs, clad in black, knee-length athletic tights, acquired too many stinging scratches to count, and God knows I'd probably become familiar with several poison ivy plants.

I could imagine Ash behind me, angrily swiping at the branches, pretending we were completely lost, and being completely delighted at the thought.

You always were hoping to get lost.

Just as I began to question the intelligence of my decision, or the point of it even, I could see an abrupt clearing, not too far beyond a line of trees ahead. By sheer strength of will, I forced myself through the gaps in the intertwined tree branches, strangely low to the ground, and popped out into a clearing.

My heart pounding, I took in the view before me. I found myself on a short outcrop, overlooking the whole forest below in a sweeping panorama. Up to the left, I could see the bald of the mountain peak, and the greens and oranges and reds of the valley below, as far as I could see, until it was swallowed by the blazing sky.

It was with a lazy smile that I realized this was one of those rare, very special moments. A moment untouched by anyone or anything else, a kind of personal secret place you can always revisit in memory to remind yourself that adventure does exist, if you only search for it.

I'll always remember this sight…

My dark hair, still straightened from when I'd done it this morning, swirled with the wind in long ribbons, seeming to caress my face, and I smiled wider, as if it were a purposeful gesture. I had the distinct feeling that I was supposed to find this place, this stunning overlook.

I was about to shrug the Hulk off to sit for a bit, watch the sun finish its dance, when I noticed something peeking at me from behind some tall bushes, chock full of bright red berries. I jumped, my mind immediately assuming I was being hunted, until I realized the dark shape was no more than a stone. A very tall stone.

My interest piqued, I set the Hulk down, not wanting to lug him through the bushes and get berries smooshed all over him. My feet carried me towards the odd structure, my arms propelled me through the tightly knit foliage, and I stumbled a bit over a gnarled bit of branches, falling to my knees in a patch of dirt.

Very soft, barren dirt...

I lifted my eyes to see that the stone was not alone, but one of many of varying heights, all taller than me. They stood solemnly in a circle, with the largest in the center, standing vigil over a ring of dirt. Nothing, not a single blade of grass, not even a single weed, grew in the circle.

For a moment, I couldn't breathe or move, or think properly, my brain trying to process the strangeness of the stone circle. Finally, I managed to heave myself up, and brush my knees off of the ruddy, powdery dirt. Staring at the structure, I could see that every stone was very old, and I very much wanted to get a closer look. Yet, the moment I stepped into the circle, uneasiness settled into my bones, and the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. It was as if every ancient instinct I'd ever acquired was screeching at me to turn back, run away, never set eyes on these stones ever again.

Smiling blue eyes urged me on.

I took a tremulous breath to steady my suddenly shaking knees, and took another step, towards the center stone. The closer I got, the easier it was to see the weathered runes chiseled into its wide girth, though time and the elements had all but eaten them away to nothingness. I squinted my eyes slightly as I got within reach, trying to discern a language from them, even just a recognizable symbol.

"How old are you, exactly?" I muttered, reaching a tentative hand toward a more pronounced rune, my fingers itching to trace it.

What man, or woman, had carved this into the stone? How long ago had they lived? What wonders had they seen, and what Gods led them to make this structure?

My lips parted ever so slightly, sucking in a breath of shock and confusion as my finger met with the stone. It was blazing hot, yet startlingly cold at the same time.

Suddenly, a deep ringing exploded through my head, pain erupting in what must have been every bone in my entire body. Deep drumming blasted the air around me, the air in my lungs. The vibrations were so deep, so loud!

I wanted to snatch my hand back, cover my ears, escape the circle, do something, anything, but I was frozen to the spot. My feet would not obey me.

Panic rose in my chest, and before I lost all sense of bodily direction, I could feel my heart fluttering as if struggling to continue pumping.

The last I heard among the rumbling was high pitched keening, very distinct and recognizable, something that sparked the will to survive within me.

Human screams of utter and complete terror.

Cold.

I dragged a deep breath of crisp air through my nose, willing my eyes to open.

Dark…

I let out a throaty groan, my throbbing head worsening as I cracked an eye open to see the brightest stars I'd ever seen in my life, twinkling merrily, blissfully unaware of my pain.

"What the hell…" I growled, sitting up with sore muscles to see that I had been planted firmly on my back in the ring of dirt, still within the stone circle. An imprint the size and shape of my body remained in the dirt below. With a frown creasing my brow, I glanced up at the sky again. It must have been an hour or so that I'd been out, for the moon was rising steadily on the horizon.

I felt as though I'd been hit by a train.

Scratch that.

Several trains, one after the other, with spikes on front, and cement rollers in the back. My joints ached like I'd contracted the flu, and my muscles felt as though they'd been worked to hell and back.

I made a move to stand up, rocking forward, but my legs were jelly, and immediately failed me. I plopped back down to take a determined breath before trying again.

This time I managed to stand up, wobbly as I was. I almost reached out to steady myself with a hand on one of the stones, but it only took the brief memory of that deep resonance, that terrifying rumbling, to stop me.

And that horrible screaming…

I stretched my arms over my head, trying to get some of the kinks out before heading back to camp. I'd need a little more strength than I thought I had, and being wound tighter than a rubber band wouldn't help.

An earthquake, my rational mind quipped, that's what happened, of course! You fell and hit your head from the tremors, and you're confused. That's all.

Whatever the case, I knew one thing.

I wanted, more than anything I've ever wanted in my life, to get away from that stone circle. Staring at the stones now made me feel unwelcome and endangered, like a trespasser on some sacred ground, for which the penalty was death.

I needed to get back to my tent.

I turned and made my way to the line of bushes, climbing through slowly and carefully. Surely, this wouldn't be as confusing with a flashlight. I made straight for where I'd left the Hulk an hour or so ago, several feet from the edge of the outlook.

The stars and moon gave ample light to see far enough, yet I didn't see the Hulk where I'd left him. In fact, I didn't see him anywhere in sight…

Maybe an animal found him and dragged him into the tree-line.

I gritted my teeth and headed for where I knew the path through the trees would be. It was about halfway down the treeline adjacent to the outcrop, and using the silver light that the night so kindly provided me, I found it and pushed through to the other side.

The brush was nearly impenetrable, it was so grown over, and the trail was nonexistent. I bit my lip, slightly fearing I'd gone insane at this point.

Well... I know the general direction, so if I just keep going that way, I should reach the original trail, right?

I wandered through the trees and bushes, acquiring even more scratches and cuts than I'd had before. I wondered idly how many ticks I had on me. Right now, contracting Lyme disease was the least of my problems.

It was becoming colder by the second out, and my tights and light jacket weren't doing much to help insulate body heat. I needed to wrap this up, and soon.

How hard did I hit my head, exactly?

Everything looked different in the forest, and yet the same. One tree, who had been gigantic, old and hollow with age and insects, had no hole in it… It seemed perfectly healthy now.

Maybe you're mistaking it for another tree.

The stream I'd passed on my way here seemed wider somehow, deeper…

How would you know? It's not like you dove in and crossed it.

The strangest thing, though, was the bridge at the trailhead over the stream, a wooden bridge built by the park rangers and volunteers years before.

It was gone. Non-existent. Absolutely vanished.

Well… Not sure how to write that one off…

Adrenaline spiked in my blood. Fear began to seep into my heart. What was going to happen to me if I couldn't find my way back? I'd been hearing horror stories about missing hikers for years, from my mother. She'd always made me promise never to go hiking alone, and I'd always broken that promise. Perhaps this was my punishment.

I'd never feared the trees or the animals. It was always humans that had terrified me most, the prospect of running into an ill-meaning stranger, perhaps a deranged man who happened to have woken up on the wrong side of the bed and thought he deserved a little pick-me-up…

Now, don't panic… That's the worst thing you can do in-

Suddenly, the snap of a twig to my right, further down the stream on my side, made me jump and my breath caught in my throat. Loud as a gunshot in the peaceful quiet of the night, it made my heart leap into a headlong gallop.

Frantic thoughts of crazed psychopath killers, flesh-eating monsters, and all too real predators for that matter, shot through my mind, setting my synapses ablaze like lightning. I wouldn't be able to run very fast in my condition, exhausted and banged up from the earthquake. Not to mention, even with the moon and stars, it was still too dark to see far enough for sprinting through trees…

Another snapped twig, accompanied by a low growl and the answering canine yapping in the darkness, and I'd quickly made up my mind to leap down the embankment into the stream.

Seriously, you've got to be joking… Wolves? Actual wolves? Maybe it's just a few dogs, friendly little puppies!

Are there even wolves in this region?

Yet I wasn't about to turn around and find out.

The water was ice cold, having flowed down from the top of the mountain. My breath caught in my lungs, as frozen as my skin. Trying my best to disregard the sudden loss of my ability to breathe, I heaved my way across the waist-deep water, cursing under my breath as it got deeper. Soon, I was swimming for all that I was worth, toward the other side of the river and, hopefully, safety.

Wolves don't like to swim, do they?

Frustrated, high-pitched whining on the other side of the river seemed to promptly answer that question. I kept sloshing my way through the water as, much to my relief, it got shallow enough for my water-logged hiking boots to touch once again.

Oh sure, a relaxing weekend hiking, alone, in the fucking mountains. Relaxing, is that what this is? Time to think, huh? Time to mend?

What a fucking joke.

I just had to explore, didn't I? Couldn't stick to the plan, as per usual.

Howls erupted on the embankment, the sound of reluctant splashing at my back causing me to panic and become clumsy. In my haste, I slipped on the moss-covered rocks of the opposite embankment, dashing my knees upon the sharp slipperiness beneath the water.

Persistent little buggers! All for some skin and bone human? Am I really worth it?

Yet, I doubted they wanted to listen to my very logical explanation of why they shouldn't eat me, and thus, once my feet hit dry dirt past the rocks and mud of the bank, I broke out into a sprint. I doubted I'd be able to outrun them very long once they got out of the water, but I couldn't just give up. Trees flew past me in the blackness, and I barely had the reflexes to dodge them as they came.

I have to do something. Think quickly, think smart!

My feet skidded to a halt, and I jumped up, clawing at the first branch I could get my hands on. I pulled myself up onto the fat bit of tree, climbing up to the next one, just above my head. My arms shook and my legs burned, but I climbed a third rung in the tree I'd made into my personal ladder, and hugged it to my chest, face pressed awkwardly to the scratchy bark of the trunk.

Excited barking and howling announced their arrival.

The pack was coming for me, and my breathing, despite the desperate need to gulp air into my lungs, became quiet. I dared not move when I heard leaves crunching below, in many different spots. There were at least five wolves, probably more. A large pack for wolves anywhere, especially in North Carolina…

They knew I was up in that tree, my scent probably reeking of fear and adrenaline. They circled beneath it for what seemed like hours, growling and snapping at one another in frustration at the wasted effort of their hunt. I imagined I could see their yellow eyes, glowing orbs of hunger and blood-lust, staring up at me in the darkness.

After a while, my shoulders began to ache with the effort of clutching the tree branch, and my thighs screamed in protest as well. I deemed it safe to move position, and carefully maneuvered myself to sit upright, my back against the trunk.

Enthusiastic whining sounded as I moved. I chose to ignore it.

My mind wandered, thinking of what might have happened had I chosen a different tree. I would have climbed one branch up, maybe two, and perhaps the third would have snapped. I'd have been torn to bits… Alive.

I was extremely lucky to have picked a sturdy tree.

I patted the branch beneath me in honest gratitude, and whispered thanks under my breath. Exhaustion was quickly setting in, my body shaking with the cold and effort I'd expended while staying alive. I couldn't see or hear the wolves anymore, but I wasn't risking anything.

As the hours crawled past, I watched the blackness turn into gray.

The silence of night gave way to the bustle of morning in the forest. Finally having gathered enough courage, I pushed the leaves I'd covered myself with off. Very slowly, I slid from branch to branch, my shaking limbs hugging the trunk whenever they could for support. I paused on every branch to listen and watch for the wolves.

They were definitely gone, and with that comforting knowledge, I let myself drop to the ground. I landed in an ungraceful heap, sitting for a moment in the leaves before heaving myself up.

After brushing the dirt and leaves off as best I could, I took a look at my surroundings from this vantage point. My heart dropped into my toes, my stomach curling unpleasantly. I'd fallen into the trap that every hiker dreads. A distraction leads to curiosity. Curiosity leads inevitably to somewhere no one can find you.

I have no supplies.

I have no means of communication. And worst of all...

I have no idea where I am.